


keep it in mind

by captainofthegreenpeas



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Femslash, First Impressions, Instant Attraction, Johanna is a shameless flirt and I love it, Masoncoin, meetings, mild bad language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 17:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13839432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainofthegreenpeas/pseuds/captainofthegreenpeas
Summary: At Finnick's wedding, Alma Coin meets Johanna Mason.





	keep it in mind

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I’m assuming here that Johanna was locked up in hospital until the wedding hence why she hasn’t seen Coin around yet.

From here, Alma Coin could see all the way across the hall, over the bobbing heads of all the guests, over the clamour and chitter-chatter of her people. This was a seething teeming mass of joy that she had never seen, making sounds she seldom heard in her working life.

  
She could not have picked a better place to stand.

 

  
She realised the foolishness of this observation when a flautist blew a bad note right in her ear. Concerned for the survival of her eardrums, she discreetly moved away, trying to walk without her characteristic sense of purpose. Parties, Plutarch had explained to her, were best navigated gliding rather than striding. 

 

Several handsome soldiers of rank high enough to dare asked her to dance as she passed but she politely declined. In the middle of the dance floor, bride and groom were in each other’s arms, lost in their slow steady wandering that was only just a dance. She crossed to the opposite corner of the room and in doing so almost entered the memory of walking up the aisle herself. That had been so many years ago, in fact that may have been the last time Alma had walked this path. She stopped by the rail. It was here, she recalled, that the two had knelt, with an air more of duty than of eagerness. That was back when her hair was black and there was no title before her name.

  
“And they all lived happily ever after,” came a bitter voice behind her. Alma thought at first not to dignify that with a reaction but then what must have been the same voice laughed so then she turned, with the intention of fixing her finest cold stare upon the miscreant. But her expression changed to one of surprise without her intending it to. It was the victor from District Seven, with the shaven head and sarcastic grin, face as sharp as the axe Plutarch had promised she was so good at wielding. 

 

  
“You must be Johanna Mason.”

  
“Must?” The victor grinned. “You bet I must. Can’t exactly be anyone else.”

  
“I don’t think that we’ve been formally introduced.” Alma stretched out her hand.

  
“No, I haven’t got any.”

  
“You shake it.”  

 

  
Johanna shrugged and swept her hand around the side, clasping Alma’s and half shaking, half wrestling it as if they were drinking partners. There was something desperate, crazed, in her grasp, as if she feared Alma would run away, but her grip was stronger than expected and surprisingly pleasant. Johanna dropped her hands and resumed her slouch. A guest somewhere to the side shouted across at a friend a little too harshly and Johanna jumped, reaching instinctively for a knife at her belt. Finding none, she snorted at herself.

 

  
“God, who runs this shithole?” She muttered.

  
“I do.” Alma deadpanned. At such cool rebuttal most tended to cower away meekly with “oh.” but the victor burst out laughing again instead. This Mason did laugh a lot for someone who had nothing at all to laugh about.

  
“So you’re the Alma Coin whose disapproval is so dreaded? I was told you were terrifying.” Mason did not let talking interrupt her laughter for long.

  
“I am terrifying!” Alma retorted, unusually speaking without thinking. “Just because you’re not quaking in your boots doesn’t mean everyone isn’t.”

  
“I’ve seen terror,” Johanna’s voice hardened. “And chickpea, you ain’t it.”

  
“I know you have.” Alma ignored the last bit. “I thought now would not be the time to mention it.”

  
“Oh, mention it. I don’t care. I’ve gone too far to let stupid words hurt me now.”

  
“Nobody’s going to hurt you.” _Not unless Katniss breaks the deal and you lose your trial, at least_.

  
“And the moon is made of silver,” Johanna turned mocking. “And bluebirds sing rainbows.”

  
“Now that I would like to see.”

  
“Sure you would.” Johanna’s mood suddenly perked up at a thought. “Can I call you Al? Or how about Co-co?”

  
“How about neither?”

  
“But can I?”

  
“Can, yes. Should, no.”

  
“You know, for a rebel you’re kinda strait-laced.”

  
“If I’m strait-laced, what does that make the Capitol?” At the mention of the enemy, Johanna spat at the floor and stamped it into the ground.

Alma smiled wryly. “My point exactly.”

  
“Still,” Johanna offered. “If you ever wanna break out of your laces for wild times, don’t forget to give me a heads up first. I don’t make a habit of hanging out with presidents, but for wreaking havoc and mayhem I can make an exception.” _I could make an exception for you,_ she added in her head.

  
“So you’re the mistress of mischief, are you?”

  
“My pedigree on that front has no rival. Did Katniss tell you about the time that I-”

  
“Haymitch did.” Alma gave Johanna a look of disapproval she wasn’t really feeling. “Don’t be tempted to try it out in Thirteen’s elevators.”

  
“Or what?” Johanna’s smile broadened. “You gonna come down all the way from your office to…. tell me off?”

  
“Yes.” Alma added quickly: “once your clothes are back on.”

  
“Ah, but how do you know I’ll have changed back into them unless you see for yourself?” Johanna winked. “Who knows. I might change my mind again.”

  
For a long moment, Alma Coin had nothing to say. “This is nonsense,” she said finally. “I have no idea what we are supposed to be talking about, but it is now very much nonsense.”

  
“If you say so….” Johanna lumbered off. “…And about my offer?”

  
“I’ll keep it mind,” Coin replied shortly, against her better judgement.

 

...Possibly.


End file.
